


The Muse

by idoltina



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Temporary Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt meets Blaine on a staircase. It's not the first time. The first time he meets Blaine on that staircase, he barely catches a glimpse of the boy of his dreams before he crumbles to stone. It's not the last time. Kurt meets Blaine on a staircase. And so the story begins. Again. And again. And with every move they make toward one another, the Muse unleashes her wrath, hellbent on keeping them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Muse

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Character death, violence

_Let's take a better look beyond a storybook and learn our souls are all we own before we turn to stone. And if you wait for someone else's hand, you will surely fall._

_Turn to Stone – Ingrid Michaelson_

*****

**Never Been Kissed**

Kurt takes off his sunglasses and drinks in the scene around him, the high ceilings, the spiraling staircase he's winding down, the sea of red and navy he's lost in. Breathless, curious, a little brave, he leans toward a dark-haired boy passing by. “Excuse me.”

The boy, who's reached the bottom of the stairs, turns and looks up. His eyes lock on Kurt's and his jaw falls open slightly.

But before Kurt can manage to say _Hi_ , the boy's skin starts to gray and harden and he turns solid, a statue at the foot of the stairs. Kurt doesn't have time to react and feels a jerk low in his abdomen. As his vision fades, he thinks he sees the boy -- the solid, frozen, statue of the boy -- crumble to the floor.

_Kurt lands on a hard patch of earth, winded. He blinks, stars swimming in his vision, and catches a glimpse of a woman's hardened face. Kurt shifts and teeters, rolling and tumbling down a set of stairs --_

Kurt's feet land on marble, firm and steady. He blinks and glances around, clutching the strap of his satchel nervously. He takes his sunglasses off -- again -- and watches the crowd of noisy, uniformed boys make their way down the stairs. Dalton. This is Dalton.

Kurt has got to stop daydreaming.

A little less brave, Kurt doesn't lean toward the same boy -- _not same, you've never met him before_ , Kurt chastises himself -- but arbitrarily addresses three boys in front of him. Two of the boys ignore him and keep walking, but the same -- _not same_ \-- dark-haired boy turns around again -- _not again_ \-- and meets Kurt's gaze. “Um, hi,” Kurt manages to get out, and the boy is still standing there, waiting patiently. “Can I ask you a question? I --” Kurt falters, wracking his brain because why is he here again? Oh, yeah. Puck. Puck and his stupid insistence that Kurt spy on the Warblers. “I'm new here.”

The boy smiles brightly and reaches out a hand. “My name is Blaine.”

Flustered, Kurt matches the gesture. “Kurt.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other and reevaluates the commotion around them. “So what exactly is going on?”

“The Warblers,” Blaine chuckles, and Kurt cannot believe his luck. “Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons.” Blaine is grinning and Kurt swears he almost winks at him as they watch the Dalton students swarm towards the commons. “Tends to shut the school down for awhile.”

“So wait,” Kurt cuts in, hesitant. “The glee club here is kind of... cool?” He almost doesn't let himself believe it, doesn't let himself hope. He's managed to get in undetected and has a boy -- a really really cute boy -- talking to him and smiling. It's a relatively drastic change to the male interaction Kurt is used to: pushes and shoves and homophobic slurs and general expressions of revulsion.

But Blaine keeps smiling and answers another of Kurt's questions with ease, almost... friendly. “The Warblers are like... rock stars.” Kurt cocks an eyebrow in suspicion because really, that can't be true. “Come on,” Blaine says, and reaches out for Kurt's hand. Kurt's breath catches but Blaine doesn't pull away and Kurt is about to _faint_. “I know a shortcut.” Kurt barely manages to gape at him before Blaine tugs him down the rest of the stairs and through a back hallway.

Before Kurt can look around him, take in more of Dalton's glory, before he can revel in the fact that _a boy is holding his hand_ and _leading him down a hallway like it is no big deal_ , before they manage to get more than a few feet down the hallway, Blaine turns to look at him, and Kurt feels it before he sees it. Blaine's hand turns stiff against his and Kurt watches in horror as he follows the setting stone up Blaine's arm to his face, his chest, the rest of his body. Kurt's hand is trapped and he can't tug himself away, can't look away, just stares at Blaine -- the boy has a name now, Blaine, Blaine _Blaine_. Blaine starts to crumble away, and as his stone hand breaks free of Kurt's real one, there's another pull in Kurt's abdomen and --

_He lands on the same patch of earth again, harder this time. The woman's face hovers over him and there's an unpleasant smile on her face. Kurt's stomach twists nervously. Clucking her tongue, she shakes her head. “Do me a favor,” she says, and there's a warning tone in her voice that Kurt feels obligated to obey. “Don't let him touch you this time. I'm not in the mood.” She turns from him and Kurt struggles to get up, tripping over his own ankles and falling headfirst down a familiar staircase --_

His feet land on marble and it takes him more time to recover. A flurry of boys move past him on the staircase and -- Dalton.

_What_ is going on here? _Candid Camera_ and _Punk'd_ went off the air ages ago, though the latter would be right up Puck's alley. And he hasn't had a cup of coffee or anything since he got here, so that rules out someone slipping something into his drink...

Kurt sighs, shakes his head, and moves forward, addressing the same three boys again. Again, the dark-haired boy turns around, and, after a moment, offers his hand. “My name is Blaine.”

Kurt bites back the urge to say, _Yeah, I know_. He lets Blaine explain, again, the sensation that the Warblers are, but something in him -- instinct, perhaps -- tells him to heed the woman's warning, whoever she is. Kurt grips the strap of his satchel tightly with one hand, digging the other into his pocket, enclosing around a small compact mirror -- a gift from his mother. When Blaine offers to show him a shortcut, he merely gestures for Kurt to follow him.

So Kurt does, but he chews his lip nervously and can't seem to focus; he feels a little jarred. He realizes, a little belatedly, that he's changed the way he's interacted with this boy every time he's met him- and really, Kurt thinks he has to be losing his mind to even be thinking that sentence. But the reality -- whatever this reality is -- the reality is that he _does_ keep meeting this boy, Blaine, and Blaine keeps.... dying? Kurt's not sure what to call it. But Kurt remembers, remembers what happens before Blaine crumbles before his eyes, and it starts to dawn on him that he's subconsciously tried to change the turn of events to prevent it from happening.

Blaine opens the double doors to the senior commons, and Kurt shrinks, noting aloud how much he sticks out. He's sure he's going to be caught. Blaine leans forward and adjusts Kurt's lapel, making a quip about needing to remember his jacket, and yeah, Kurt is caught. But Blaine is beaming, smiling, at him, and the realization hits Kurt like a ton of bricks: Blaine is _flirting_.

_No_ , Kurt tells himself firmly as Blaine excuses himself to join a group of boys on the far end of the room. _Not gay. Not._ Finn's face flashes in his mind, and then Sam's, and Kurt forces the sudden desire out of his mind.

But it gets harder and harder to ignore, harder to keep the blush out of his face when Blaine starts to sing, his eyes catching Kurt's with every spin, every step, every suggestive line. And Blaine is still _smiling_. They bring the song to a close, the other Warblers clap Blaine on the back, but Blaine's eyes still find Kurt. Something tells Kurt to leave, to slip out now, while he still can.

A hand on his shoulder makes him turn around. “New kid -- Kurt. Wait.” Kurt turns, unable to bite back a smile because _Blaine remembered his name_. Blaine holds out his phone and raises his eyebrows hopefully. “Come back for coffee tomorrow?” Crap, Kurt knows he's been caught now, and there are two tall boys side-eying him from across the room as Blaine talks to him, but Blaine is looking up at him with bright eyes and Kurt can't bring himself to say no.

When Kurt returns the next day, he's tentative, careful. He hasn't bothered to blend in this time but Blaine -- and the two boys who'd been watching them yesterday, Wes and David -- don't seem upset. On the contrary, they all seem rather... amused. Kurt gets a little bolder, ventures a question about sexuality that, at McKinley, would have earned him a swift punch -- or slushie -- to the face. The boys laugh, though, actually laugh, and it's Blaine who answers. “No. Well, I mean, I am, but these two have girlfriends.” Kurt barely hears the last part of the sentence. Blaine is gay.

Blaine is _gay_.

Kurt forces himself to take a sip of his latte instead of doing what he really wants to: namely, lean over the table and yank Blaine into a grateful kiss just for _being_ gay, for being _openly_ gay. But the atmosphere shifts almost immediately as David starts to explain Dalton's zero-tolerance harassment policy, and then Wes jumps in, and Kurt's stomach drops out of him and he can't _breathe_ \--

Kurt barely registers that he's alone with Blaine now, that Blaine has picked up on his anguish, and suddenly Kurt can't stop talking and it all comes spilling out of him. Better words than tears. “Nobody seems to notice.”

But Blaine, Blaine listens, Blaine empathizes, and Kurt can't stop staring at him, doesn't want to let this boy out of his sight, doesn't want to let him get away, or crumble to pieces --

Kurt blinks and shakes his head, trying to rid the thought from his mind. Blaine talks about options, about transferring to Dalton -- and oh, doesn't Kurt _wish_ \-- but then he pauses, and Kurt meets his gaze steadily. Blaine leans forward a fraction of an inch, and Kurt can hear the earnest tone in his voice: “You can refuse to be the victim.”

Kurt lets out a surprised breath, Blaine meets his gaze, but before he can speak again, there's a rapid crackling sound where Blaine sits and he breaks much more quickly this time. Air leaves Kurt's chest as he's pulled backward, inward --

_Kurt's already crying when he hits the ground, and the woman's voice rings against his ears. “Can't have him giving you any ideas.”_

_Shaking, Kurt takes a moment to push himself up onto his knees, tears dripping from his eyelashes. He turns, shifting himself into a sitting position, and turns to look at the woman properly. His chest seizes a little as he gazes on her, takes in the snakes on her head and her eye -- one, singular eye. “Who -- who are you?”_

_She considers him a moment and the smiles. Kurt shrinks away from her. “Medusa,” she says finally. “I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Boy can't learn his lesson... Perhaps you can.”_

_“What --” Kurt starts, but Medusa shakes her head and lifts him to his feet, shoving him towards a set of descending stairs --_

Kurt finds himself on the spiraling Dalton staircase, shaking. Blaine brushes by him, and Kurt fights to regain his composure before -- once again -- addressing the three boys in front of him. Blaine turns, and Kurt relives the day again.

When Blaine excuses Wes and David, Kurt focuses less on what Blaine's actually saying and more on how to prevent him from -- how had Medusa phrased it? -- giving him any ideas. “Sorry, nothing we can do about it.”

There's a pause, and Kurt knows how the story ends but doesn't need Blaine to say it, doesn't want Blaine to say it, can't _let_ Blaine say it. So he drops his hand from his coffee cup and leans forward a little. “Thank you,” he cuts in, and Blaine blinks, surprised. “For telling me that, it -- it helps.” He doesn't dare say anymore but it seems to be enough and Blaine softens, nodding. “Thank you for the coffee,” Kurt says, rising from his chair.

Blaine watches him for a second before following suit and Kurt turns to walk away when Blaine grabs his arm. “Kurt, wait.” Kurt's heart catches in his throat and he closes his eyes, willing the hand on his arm to stay warm and malleable. A few seconds pass, and Kurt breathes a little easier. He turns to meet Blaine's gaze. “If -- look, if he gives you any problems, just... call me, okay?”

So Kurt does. Karofsky pushes him one step too far and Kurt confronts him in front of a row of red lockers and then Karofsky is assaulting him, stealing his first kiss and making Kurt feel so alone and _violated_ that he doesn't see any other option but to call Blaine. And Blaine, bless him, promises to show up the next day and talk to Karofsky. But when Kurt hangs up the phone, he finds himself wondering if he needs to be present for Blaine to die.

That, apparently, _is_ the case, because Blaine meets Kurt in the parking lot the next day. Together, they climb the steps between floors and Kurt points his tormentor out. There's a quickly murmured, “I've got your back,” something Kurt is still hesitant to believe, cautious about allowing. Blaine steps in immediately and is calm, rational, diplomatic. Karofsky tries to brush them off but Blaine is persistent, and then he says the words that Kurt's been longing to hear, words Karofsky, apparently, isn't. “You should just know that you're not alone.”

Karofsky spins and lunges toward them; Kurt side steps out of the way quickly but Blaine stays, doesn't move himself from Karofsky's path, and Kurt watches with wide eyes as Karofsky's fists find Blaine's blazer and push him backward. Blaine's eyes find Kurt's for a split second and that's all it takes; when his back collides with the chain-linked fence, Blaine -- already stone -- shatters against it and spills in fragments down the stairwell. Karofsky freezes on the spot and there's an air of a silent scream that doesn't leave his throat as there's a jerk behind Kurt's navel --

_Kurt lands face first at Medusa's feet. “What did he do?” Kurt asks, brushing dirt off of his face. “I don't understand, you've got to help me --”_

_Medusa laughs coldly. “Help you?” she parrots._

_Kurt rises to his feet and scowls, refusing to meet her eye. “Yes, help me,” he snaps back. “You said there was a lesson to be learned, and I'm trying-”_

_“Not very hard, it seems.”_

_Kurt's insides burn. “What do you want from me?” he asks simply. “I've done what I can to change things and you keep doing this to him --”_

_“Your lesson is a simple one,” she says sharply. “Don't let him get too close.”_

Kurt finds himself on Dalton's staircase again and this time, he can sense Blaine coming before he sees him. He lets the days play out the same -- or the same as the were when he'd made the changes -- and when Karofsky freezes at Blaine's last words, Kurt tugs at Blaine's elbow. Blaine looks down, cocking an eyebrow, and seems surprised when Karofsky's face hovers over him. “Do not mess with me,” Karofsky growls.

Blaine seems torn between looking terrified -- Karofsky's twice his size -- and wanting to step forward and really make something of the confrontation. Kurt speaks up. “Stop.” Both boys turn to look at him, and Kurt closes his eyes. “Just... stop.” The three of them stare at each other for a moment, chests heaving, before Karofsky finally spins around and makes his way down the stairs.

Kurt sinks down onto a step, and Blaine follows. “What's going on? Why are you so upset?”

Kurt shakes his head, but Blaine sits quietly, patiently, and Kurt knows he has to answer. “Because up until yesterday, I had never been kissed, at least not when it counted.” Kurt feels Blaine staring at him for a long moment but doesn't turn to meet his gaze. When Blaine finally speaks, it's an offer to buy Kurt lunch, and when Kurt rises to follow him, Blaine doesn't turn to stone.

*****

**Special Education**

When Kurt transfers to Dalton nearly a month later -- or a month and a week later, if he counts the time he relived every time Blaine died -- he thinks it's over. Blaine's slowly becoming one of his best friends and yes, they spend every day together now, but Kurt figures that they're safe, that Medusa's okay with them being friends, being like this. Blaine hasn't died since Karofsky shoved him into the fence. Kurt really thinks its a testament to his will and self-restraint when he settles mutely into the Warblers, and even more so when Blaine tells him the council's offered him an audition for a solo.

But then Kurt makes the mistake of going to Rachel for advice and letting her coerce him into singing a song as gut-wrenching and heart-breaking as _Don't Cry for Me Argentina_. And Kurt realizes it's a mistake too late, because in the midst of singing, he gets to the line, “ _Don't keep your distance_ ;” out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees a smile playing at Blaine's lips, and there's a loud cracking sound again- the other Warblers jump from the couch, gasping as stone falls on the upholstery where Blaine had been sitting. And Kurt, already fighting back tears from the _Evita_ number, gives into the tug behind his navel rather reluctantly --

_He falls onto his back but doesn't bother trying to get up; instead, he focuses his gaze on the sky and lets the tears stream down his face. “Am I not allowed to sing now?”_

_“Sing all you like,” Medusa chides, and Kurt clenches his fists. “I'd just be more careful about what your choices are. The boy does seem to react rather violently...” Kurt sniffs and pushes himself to his feet, stumbling blindly to the archway --_

And down the stairs, where Blaine passes him again, and Kurt has to take a deep breath. He doesn't want to play by Medusa's rules, but Blaine is _special_ and Kurt doesn't exactly want to lose him. So he's forced to be a pawn in Medusa's game, constantly check-mated, and a bit of his old self emerges. Dalton -- Blaine -- has been trying to teach him to fight fair, to be a little more mature and giving. And Kurt doesn't mind so much because, yeah, he does have a lot of growing up to do, but when it comes to Medusa, he thinks, his old tactics might be worth a shot. So even though he doesn't particularly like it or want to do it, Kurt decides to do something he knows how to do well: manipulate, and blackmail.

When Blaine offers him the audition again, Kurt politely declines and moves to brush past Blaine. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Blaine grabs him by the elbow and ushers him the the alcove below the staircase. “You don't want the solo?” Blaine asks, his voice low. Kurt shakes his head, pursing his lips, and Blaine's eyes look... sad. “Why? This isn't like you. You have so much to offer --”

“Blaine,” Kurt cuts in, gently removing the hand at his elbow. “It's okay. I -- I'm not ready for this. I just got here, I -- I need to get my footing. Besides, I'd pick the wrong song anyway --”

“No you wouldn't,” Blaine says quietly, eyes trained on the ground. “You always pick the right song.”

Kurt laughs. “For me, maybe. But not for the Warblers.” _Not for you._

So he gives up the chance at a solo and leaves Rachel in the middle of a conversation that's actually healthy for them and sings back-up at Sectionals while Blaine pulls faces -- all for Blaine. Kurt finds himself losing his voice but he hasn't lost Blaine and he counts that as his best blessing at the moment. But then Pavarotti loses _his_ voice and Kurt aches because the bird is innocent, free from Medusa's clutches -- he calls Blaine for help. “He's just molting,” is Blaine's explanation, and Kurt doesn't even hear the rest of Blaine's speech because finally, something good is coming out of all of this. The bird isn't dying; he's _healing_. “Just give it a little while. He'll be singing again in no time.” Kurt breathes out and glances over at Blaine for a split-second. He does a double-take when he finds Blaine staring back, and there's something in his eyes that Kurt can't quite make out --

Pavarotti lets out an angry _squak_ as the pieces of Blaine's nose -- hard and fragmented -- cascade into the cage with loud, metallic _thuds_. Kurt, nerves already on edge, drops his phone to the floor and --

_\-- falls flat on his stomach. He's upset and angry and fighting tears but he has to pull himself together because this is chance to stand up to Medusa. Pushing himself to his feet, he turns to look at her, but she has her back to him, her eye trained upon the mountain above her cave. “I did some research, you know.”_

_“Really?” Medusa says, and she sounds almost amused. “Not about how to take care of that bird, clearly.”_

_Kurt's jaw clenches. “No. About you. I know what Poseidon did to you.”_

_Medusa chuckles. “Poseidon was only part of the problem.”_

_Kurt inhales. “And Perseus. He was the one who destroyed you.” Medusa makes a scathing noise. “What I can't figure out,” Kurt presses, “is what that has to do with us. With me and Blaine.”_

_“You're asking why?” Medusa turns to look at him now, and Kurt can't bring himself to speak again. She stares at him, long and hard, before shaking her head. “The bird won't die,” she says, her tone suddenly casual again. “So there's no need to call your precious Blaine for help.” She takes a few long strides across the room and shoves Kurt through the archway --_

When Kurt lands on the stairs, his knees are trembling. He removes his sunglasses and prepares to meet Blaine -- again. When Pavarotti stops singing, Kurt doesn't call Blaine. The bird's plight isn't even mentioned until they're both poured over textbooks in the commons one afternoon. Blaine's the one to bring it up. “You've been awfully quiet,” he notes. “I thought you'd be happy we're going to Regionals.” Kurt shrugs but doesn't look up from his book. Blaine reaches over and closes it shut, reaching out for Kurt's hand. “Hey,” he says softly. “It's just me. What's eating at you?”

Kurt's breath hitches at the warmth and weight of Blaine's hand on his. “Pavarotti's molting,” is all he can bring himself to say. “Don't worry about it. He'll be fine, I --” He pulls his hand out from under Blaine's grasp and tries to focus, reopening his book. Blaine sits quietly for a moment before agreeing to drop the subject, and the room is silent except for the sounds of turning pages and pencils scratching. It's not long, though, before Kurt's curiosity gets the better of him. “What do you know about Greek mythology?” he asks slowly.

Blaine tosses his pencil on top of his book and stretches. “A bit,” he says. “Why?”

“Do you know about... Do you know about Poseidon?”

“God of the sea, yeah,” Blaine says, and he smiles a little. “My mom's always said I probably relate to him most, because my name means _the source of a river_ , but --” Blaine shakes his head. “I think I identify with Perseus a little more. Not a god, I know, but --”

“A hero,” Kurt finishes. “Still pretty noble,” he teases, and Blaine grins. “If you --” Kurt hesitates. Medusa's never instructed him on this, if he's allowed to mention her. He chooses his words carefully. “If you were the mortal gorgon,” he says slowly, “who would you hate more, Poseidon or Perseus?”

Blaine considers him for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched a little. “I don't know,” he answers. “Poseidon might have forced himself on her, which is the reason she was transformed into a monster to begin with, but Perseus was the one to kill her, so...” He pauses. “There's always Athena to consider.” Kurt casts him a questioning glance. “Athena was the one who made her into a monster. There's resentment there too.”

“That was my mom's name,” Kurt says, and he can't fight the sad smile forming on his face.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine breathes immediately. Kurt closes his eyes and shakes his head, and it's a few moments before Blaine speaks again. “Goddess of war and wisdom,” he says quietly. Kurt looks up at him, and Blaine smiles a little. “You must've learned a lot from her.”

Kurt thinks of his mother -- strong and warm and loving and _giving_ \-- and nods a little. “Yeah,” he muses, “I think I probably did.”

*****

**A Very Glee Christmas**

Kurt finds himself pouring over a history textbook days before the winter holiday when a soft _thump_ distracts him, causing him to snap his head up quickly. Blaine cocks an eyebrow and smirks at him. “Hey.”

“You scared me,” Kurt says with a smile, and Blaine makes a joke about ghosts and studying too hard and he's so at ease that Kurt can't help just staring at him. He nods toward the object Blaine brought with him. “What's with the boombox?”

“I need you to sing with me.” Kurt puts his pencil down in surprise and listens to Blaine talk about a gig with King's Island, and before Kurt knows it he's almost confessing his attachment, covering up with a line about singing together as artists and needing to get away from Charlemagne. Blaine seems pleased and Kurt shifts in his chair happily, nervously because _he gets to sing with a boy_. A really, really cute boy. Who is actually gay. Kurt can't get over it.

It's a few lines before Kurt pushes himself out of his chair and starts _prancing_ around the room, and he knows, he knows he's flirting, but he's not actively making a move and they're only singing and it can't hurt. No harm, no foul. They're bumping shoulders and invading each others' personal space and Kurt is _giddy_. He leans against the arm of a couch and Blaine mirrors the position on the one opposite. “I wish I knew how,” Kurt sings.

Blaine raises his arms, framing Kurt's face in mid-air. “Your eyes are like starlight, now.”

“To break the spell,” Kurt finishes, pushing himself off of the arm. He prepares to move to the back of the couch facing the window, but Blaine catches his eye mid-movement; there's a glitter in Blaine's eyes and he smiles --

_Breaking stone echos in Kurt's ears. There's no fire where Medusa resides to keep him warm. “A few things,” Medusa starts, and Kurt shivers, jarred._

_“I was the one flirting,” Kurt snaps, annoyed. “I just wanted to -- is this because we're gay?”_

_“Do you even know who you're talking to?” Kurt turns to stare at her and goes stiff. “No. Now are you going to let me help you or not?” Kurt can't answer, can't even move his lips, and she smirks. “First, I'd leave your ancestry alone, if I were you. There's a reason you're here and he's not.” Kurt has so many questions but Medusa's not letting him ask any of them. “Second, if you had made the move, he'd be here instead of you. I can't have him looking at you another way.”_

_The second she shifts her gaze off of him, Kurt explodes. “You enjoy this, don't you?” he asks darkly. “You get some sort of sick, twisted pleasure out of killing him and keeping us apart --”_

_“That's where you're wrong,” Medusa cuts in, and Kurt clenches his fists, seething. “I'm not keeping you apart at all. You're the one who insists on meeting him. He's the one who keeps making all of the moves. And you are the one who adjusts, Kurt.” It's the first time she's said his name and it takes Kurt so by surprise that he stumbles back a little. “You're the one who keeps making the changes to keep him alive and in your company. You're the one who wants something more, something you can't have. Stop playing the victim.”_

_Kurt gapes at her, ready to retaliate, but his heel presses down unsteadily on a rock and he stumbles backward again, through the archway --_

As Blaine brushes by him on the staircase, Kurt fights to control the rage that's making his body tremble. He's tempted to do so many things at once; he wants to try not meeting Blaine just to spite Medusa, to prove to her that this is entirely her fault, that he _is_ a victim. But he wants to meet Blaine more, wants to know Blaine and sing with him again, for real this time. He _wants_ Blaine, wants him more than he's wanted anything or anyone, more than solos and Marc Jacobs cashmere sweaters and Finn and Sam and just- anything. He just wants _Blaine_. And he's determined to prove Medusa wrong.

When Blaine asks him to duet again, Kurt's careful to move from the couch a little faster -- _you're the one who adjusts, who makes changes to keep him alive and in your company_ \-- and avoids Blaine's eyes. But he still flirts madly, lets Blaine brush his shoulder again, “Mind if I move in closer?”

“At least I'm gonna say that I tried.” Kurt grins and settles against the piano, waiting for Blaine to follow. When he does, Blaine leans down next to him, fingers playing the piano in unison with the notes drifting from the boombox. Heat radiates from his body and Kurt melts a little, chancing a glance up at Blaine as he readies himself to push off of the piano. Blaine looks up for a second and does a double-take when he finds Kurt looking at him. Before Kurt can bring himself to look away, Blaine smiles warmly at him.

The music in the room is disrupted by a discord, _plunking_ sound as Blaine's broken fingers crash onto the piano keys. Kurt winces and falls backward towards the window and the snow outside --

_Kurt lies on his back, staring up at the stars. “Your eyes are like starlight now,” he sings softly._

_“Got it out of your system?” Medusa asks coldly. “Are you done rebelling now?”_

_“I wish I knew how to break the spell,” Kurt continues, his voice tapering off._

_“You know how,” Medusa forces out, and Kurt can hear the restraint in her voice. Restraint, that's new._

_“I'll back off,” Kurt promises, pushing himself up. “I -- that was selfish of me. I don't -- I don't want him to --”_

_“Touching,” Medusa comments, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Kurt turns to face her, his posture decidedly less rigid and upright than normal, and bites back a scream when he finds her face right against his. “You can't move when I'm watching you,” Medusa breathes against his ear, and it takes Kurt a second to realize that she means that figuratively and literally all at once. When she pulls away and turns, Kurt finds he can breathe, can move; he catapults himself down the stairs --_

Kurt feels ill when he meets Blaine again. It starts as a nervous, nauseating twist in his stomach, and when Blaine sings to him the first time, Kurt can't focus. Medusa clearly has more power than he realized; there was so much he'd read about her, so much he'd tried to arm himself with, all useless. Medusa's gaze, after her transformation, turned men to stone -- Blaine...

In the days leading up to the winter holiday, the twist becomes a burn and then an ache, weighing down Kurt's chest like lead. It's three days before Blaine's supposed to ask him for the duet and Kurt caves; nightfall finds him curled up on a frosted patch of earth, gloved hands tracing over a name etched in marble: _Athena Hummel_. “Mom,” Kurt chokes out. “Help. I -- I don't know what to do anymore. Blaine, he's -- I'm in love with him, Mom, I really am.” It's the first time he's said it aloud but Kurt's sure of this, sure after nearly seven months of watching Blaine die and reliving the same time line over and over again. In reality -- Blaine's reality -- they've only known each other a month and a half, but time that short seems trivial to Kurt at this point.

“I wish you were here,” Kurt whispers against the stone -- _fight against it, don't let Blaine turn to stone_. He curls up and rests his head against the headstone, eyes falling shut.

He pays the price when Blaine walks into the common room a few nights later, boombox in hand. “Hey.” Kurt looks up at him through heavily-lidded eyes and can barely bring himself to smile. “You okay?” Blaine asks, his brow furrowing.

Kurt shakes his head and gestures Blaine over, sliding a notebook across the table. _Bronchitis._

Blaine's thumb traces over the word twice before he meets Kurt's gaze. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly. Kurt shrugs. “I was going to ask you to sing with me, but clearly...” He gestures to Kurt's scarf covered neck. Kurt inhales, preparing to shrug him off again, but a cough wracks his body rather violently and he lifts his arm to cover his face. When he opens his eyes, Blaine is kneeling next to him, a hand on his knee. Kurt's eyes widen and he opens his mouth to protest, to prevent Blaine from making a move, but he's sick and he can't speak and he's so _tired_ \--

“You should go home,” Blaine offers, his hand still heavy and warm on Kurt's knee. “I'll take you myself. We can stop in the cafe and get you some tea.” Kurt can't find it in him to protest, and when he shuffles into his bedroom an hour later, he sends Blaine a text.

_Call me Saturday afternoon, before your show. I'll practice with you over the phone._

Blaine does, and Kurt's pretty sure he can sense Blaine grinning through the phone when his voice rings back, high and pure and rested.

But tonight, Kurt curls up under his covers, his mother's compact clutched tightly against his chest. A chill overtakes him; his heart turns to stone.

*****

**Silly Love Songs**

It's still cold when February rolls around, but Kurt's heart has thawed a little. He starts to warm again, dares to hope, when Valentine's Day rolls around and Blaine starts talking about declarations and serenading someone and _he knows Kurt's coffee order_. But it's _Jeremiah_ , a junior manager at the Gap, and Kurt's bitter and depressed but Rachel and Mercedes convince him to go anyway. And as he stands there, resting his cheek on a plastic mannequin and watches Blaine sing to someone else, fall for someone else, Kurt really, really hates Medusa. If he hadn't stopped Blaine, if he'd encouraged him, if Medusa didn't insist on interfering, Blaine might've gotten the hint that he was interested by now. But Kurt wasn't allowed, wasn't allowed to let Blaine pursue him, wasn't allowed to encourage him, and it's really no wonder that Blaine has fallen for someone else.

When Jeremiah turns Blaine down, Kurt feels a little childish because he's essentially replaced Medusa with Jeremiah as the source of his disdain and really, it's not Jeremiah's fault. But Kurt can't get to Medusa and she holds all of the cards, all of the power. He's not about to set her off. It's not until he and Blaine are at the Lima Bean again, and Blaine's lamenting that he _made it all up in his head_ that Kurt feels a little shame.

“Can I ask you something?” Blaine turns to look at him and it's the saddest he's ever looked. Kurt's heart breaks a little. “You and I... We hang out, we sing flirty duets together, you know my coffee order... Was I supposed to think that that was nothing?” Blaine looks confused and basically says so, and Kurt inhales. He doesn't want to have to spell this out. “I thought the guy you wanted to ask on Valentine's Day... was me.”

Blaine blinks rapidly and breaks eye contact. Kurt watches as the realization dawns on his face, and then Blaine speaks and Kurt feels like he's had the floor pulled out from under him: “Wow.” Blaine takes a step forward in line, and his body falls head first into the woman standing in front of them in line, stone hitting the back of her head with a rather loud _whack_ \--

_He's shaking with rage when he lands in Medusa's lair this time. “It wasn't enough for you, was it?” he asks angrily. “It wasn't enough that I had to sit there and watch him be in love with someone else. You had to take him from me again too.”_

_Medusa barely acknowledges him from her spot in the shadows. “I thought you would've taken it as a sign,” she says disinterestedly. “He seems to have finally learned his lesson and then you go encouraging him --”_

_“You killed him again!” Kurt protests. “That's all you've ever done, and it's been a direct reaction to something that he's done, something he's said --”_

_“Still the case,” Medusa placates. “You let your guard down and he did what he does best, reacting violently and all --”_

_“What do you want from me?” Kurt asks bluntly._

_“Learn your lesson,” she says for the countless time. Kurt huffs and spins on his heel, heading for the archway. Somehow, he knows this isn't the last time he'll see her --_

Kurt lands on the stairs again, and it takes all of his willpower to address all three boys in front of him and not just Blaine this time.

Kurt lives through the Jeremiah debacle again (it hurts just as much the second time around), and lets himself get as far as, “Was I supposed to think that was nothing?” But when Blaine asks for clarification, Kurt can't bring himself to give it. He won't make the same mistake twice. He merely shakes his head, and together, they move forward in line.

“Flirty duets,” Blaine mumbles, and Kurt's chest tightens a little. Abruptly, he turns to face Kurt. “Look, Kurt,” and Kurt meets his eyes. There's a pause, then, “I don't know what I'm doing.” And Kurt feels _awful_ because it's so _true_ and Blaine doesn't even know the half of it. “I pretend like I do and I know how to act it out in song, but the truth is... I've never really been anyone's boyfriend.” And there's such an eagerness in his eyes, such a longing that all Kurt wants to do is console him, to let him know that he's not alone, but before Kurt can open his mouth to say, Me neither, Blaine is crumbling again --

_“That was unnecessary,” Kurt argues as he brushes dirt off of his pants. “He was just being honest with me. He wasn't making a move --”_

_“We agree to disagree,” Medusa bites coldly. “Maybe you aren't as good at reading him as you think.”_

_Kurt twists his mouth and walks briskly to the archway, descending the steps --_

He whips off his sunglasses and launches into his script. “Excuse me.”

When they reach the Lima Bean post-Gap-disaster, Kurt decides to forgo confessing. Instead, he opts for, “I'm sorry things didn't work out.” Blaine grumbles appreciatively next to him, and Kurt sighs. “I was a little surprised, though,” he muses, and Blaine half-glances at him. “I didn't figure him to be your type.”

Blaine actually laughs, and Kurt beams. “I don't think I've had enough dating experience to have a type, Kurt.”

Kurt grins, and they move forward in line. “Well, you've still got one gay man in your corner, regardless.”

It takes Blaine nudging his elbow for Kurt to look at him again. Blaine's smiling fondly at him, and Kurt's heart skips a couple of beats. “You're my best friend, you know that?” Blaine says gently. Kurt smirks and rolls his eyes but Blaine doesn't falter, grabbing Kurt's hand. “No, I'm serious. I -- I really, really care about you.”

Kurt smiles warmly back and squeezes Blaine's hand reassuringly, but the gestures comes a second too late and Kurt is squeezing stone --

_“I know, I know,” Kurt says, resigned. “I get it. I can't let him say that either.”_

_“See, you're learning,” Medusa says with a wicked smile. Steps and --_

Glasses off.

Kurt gets to the Lima Bean early and when Blaine walks in, he waves him over to their usual table. Blaine sits down to his usual medium drip, a plate of biscotti, and a cupid cookie. He looks at Kurt gratefully. “Thanks,” he mutters, sipping the coffee tentatively. Kurt surveys him for a moment before picking up a bag off of the floor and setting it on the table. “What's this?”

“Something to cheer you up,” is all Kurt says.

Blaine reaches into the bag and unearths two plush, kissing puppies on a heart pillow. He stares at it blankly for a moment, shifts his gaze to Kurt and then bursts out laughing. “You hated this thing,” Blaine laughs.

“I still do,” Kurt says disdainfully, but his mouth twists into a smile.

Blaine sets it on the table between them with a fond smile and takes another drink from his cup. His gaze shifts over to the gift again, his smile falters, and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “I talked to Mercedes,” he confesses quietly.

Kurt stiffens. “Did you?”

“Why didn't you say anything?” Blaine asks quietly. Kurt doesn't answer, just purses his lips, and Blaine fidgets. “Look, Kurt, I --” He stops and looks up, and Kurt crosses his toes in his boots that Blaine just drops it. “You and me, it's... You're my best friend. You're amazing, I --”

“I know,” Kurt cuts in, and he hates this, hates that he has to cut Blaine off when Blaine is potentially saying all of the things he wants to hear, but he can't let Blaine go on. “It's okay, you don't have to explain.” Blaine seems torn between accepting the reprieve and wanting to explain more, but he's silent for a while and Kurt thinks that maybe, finally, he's mastered this.

And then Blaine extends his hand across the table, his fingertips brushing against Kurt's, and the words he speaks stab at Kurt's abdomen, preemptively preparing him for the pull: “I don't want to screw this up.” The plate of baked goods gets littered with stone --

_Kurt pulls his knees up to his chest and looks away from Medusa, noticing for the first time a river running nearby. “Do I even need to explain that one?” Medusa calls from the corner._

_Kurt shakes his head, silent tears flying off of his face. “No. I don't want to screw this up translates to you mean a lot to me. I can't have that either.”_

_“No,” she agrees. “You can't.”_

_“Who does he remind you more of?” Kurt asks through his tears. “Poseidon or Perseus?” Medusa doesn't answer, and somewhere in the back of Kurt's mind, the phrase 'give you ideas' echos. “I won't come back,” he promises Medusa. “It's- I'll keep him at arm's length, okay? Just... just leave him alone.”_

_“I can't make any promises,” she tells him. “This is out of my hands.”_

_Kurt laughs bitterly because, seriously, what a lie, but pushes himself to his feet and washes his face with river water before sulking through the archway --_

Kurt grips the compact in his pocket tightly, and when Blaine offers his name and his hand, Kurt shakes it for what he hopes is the last time. And come February, he makes sure to impress upon both Mercedes and Rachel not to speak to Blaine.

*****

**Blame It on the Alcohol/Sexy**

The next month passes without another encounter with Medusa, though, to Kurt, it feels like seconds and years all at once. Kurt sits back and watches Blaine poison his system with alcohol, watches him kiss Rachel and _like it_ , and the jealousy that burns in his veins threatens to take over again. And it does, a little. He's careless with his words again but this time they're directed venomously at Blaine, who takes offense and looks _hurt_ , and as he storms out of the Lima Bean with a snipe about being bi, Kurt watches his retreating figure; his heart _aches_. He remembers Jeremiah and his own recklessness then and resolves to make things right. If Blaine wants to date Rachel, Kurt _has_ to be okay with it, partially because, yes, he'll be a better, more supportive friend if he is, but also because if he's _not_ , Medusa reserves the right to unleash her wrath again and Kurt has sworn her off for good.

It's all moot anyway when Rachel kisses Blaine sober and Kurt's heart warms a little when he hears _one hundred percent gay_. Blaine settles in at the table in lieu of Rachel, and after a few awkward apologies, they find their footing again.

Kurt's resolve is tested again, though, a couple of weeks later, when Blaine insists that Sue's 'tip' means that the Warblers' need to amp up the sex appeal. And the thing is, Kurt knows how to do sexy -- or rather, he _feels_ sexy if he just gives himself over to the music and doesn't try too hard. But Blaine doesn't know this and even though Kurt wants to be supportive and go along with this plan, wants the Warblers to be prepared, his gut tells him he has to screw this up. He can't be sexy for Blaine.

So when they perform _Animal_ in a warehouse with foam and gigantic rubber balls for a group of giggling girls from their sister school, Kurt opts for over-the-top. And yeah, he does feel kind of ridiculous doing it, but at the same time, if he were allowed to go after Blaine, to encourage advances, if he were allowed to try and _seduce_ him, this is honestly probably what would happen. Kurt would overthink it and the whole thing would end up a complete disaster anyway.

He's proved right when Blaine makes a comment about gas pains, and Kurt snaps a little. But Blaine -- beautiful, perfect, patient Blaine -- seems to understand and wants to help, so Kurt lets him think he's being useful and they decide to practice pulling faces in the mirror of Kurt's vanity. Blaine tries his best to offer constructive criticism but Kurt is _tired_ and doesn't want to play this game anymore, so he makes an excuse about not being able to be sexy because he doesn't know about sex. But that's a mistake too, he realizes, because it _is_ true, he doesn't know a lot about sex, but he's pretty sure that's not something Medusa wants him talking to Blaine about. And he's right, it's a mistake, because Blaine is grinning at him. “Kurt, you're blushing.” And there it is again, that same teasing, playful, flirty tone from when they'd first met, and Kurt _panics_.

He starts rambling about, God, he doesn't even know, porn and tattoos and then Blaine's offering to _talk_ about sex with Kurt and Kurt shoots him down immediately because he has to stop this, has to nip it in the bud before they get any closer to anything too personal. “I like romance,” he says tentatively, and that's true, at least. “That's why I like Broadway musicals, because the touch of fingertips is as sexy as it gets.”

“Kurt, you're gonna have to learn about it someday.” Blaine is patronizing him and this is going wrong, so wrong, but Kurt knows that this isn't going to break them, that he can say what he wants right now and Blaine will still meet him for coffee in the morning.

“I think you should leave.” Kurt can practically hear Medusa applauding him and Blaine is looking at him half-disbelievingly, half like a wounded puppy, but he doesn't protest, grabs his coat from the edge of the bed, and walks from the room. Kurt lets out a sigh of relief.

The sex talk from his dad a few days later, Kurt realizes, has to be because of Blaine, because of their... discussion, and as awkward as it is, his dad is saying things that make sense, things that Kurt didn't expect to hear, things like, _Don't throw yourself around_ and, _You matter_. Kurt appreciates the effort, the gesture, and within a few days, it's not awkward to be around Blaine anymore. And really, Kurt thinks, one sexuality questioning and an awkward sex talk from his dad are small prices to pay to keep Blaine _alive._

*****

**Original Song**

Regionals is the furthest thing from Kurt's mind as the council debates Pink for Blaine. Kurt's still mourning the loss of Pavarotti, is still so _jaded_ because Medusa had explicitly said that the bird wouldn't die. Then again, Medusa said a lot of things. Kurt's grateful, at least, that he gets the catharsis of song. _Blackbird_ was for Pavarotti, yes, but more than anything, it was for him. Because Kurt needed that, needed the chance to find his voice again when Pavarotti had lost his, while Medusa took everything else. He dressed in black and he wept and he sang and yes, maybe he was being a little melodramatic about it. But Kurt doesn't really care because he _has_ to sing what he feels.

Kurt's snapped out of his reverie when when Blaine protests the spotlight the council has given him, insists on changing one of their competition numbers to a duet. Kurt perks up a little because Blaine has actually been listening to Kurt's complaints and seems to want to implement change, something Kurt's grateful for and used to by now. But when Kurt asks the council to add his name to the audition list, Blaine protests. “No. No auditions.” Kurt turns to look at him, eyes wide and confused. Blaine takes a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I want to sing the duet --” Blaine turns his head, his eyes catching Kurt's as he completes, “-- with Kurt.”

Kurt blinks in surprise but regrets it instantly because Blaine is falling forward, shattering into a thousand pieces. Thad literally jumps about three feet out of his chair and knock over the water pitcher with his foot, and Kurt is jerked back and up --

_Kurt is shaking when he lands, unable to do more than rest on his knees. “No,” he chokes out. “That wasn't supposed to happen. I- I swore I wouldn't come back here, I've done everything right --”_

_“It takes two to tango, sweetheart,” Medusa chirps icily._

_“Don't call me that,” Kurt gasps out, still trembling. “I don't -- so what? This is his fault? He can't ask to sing with me?”_

_“Haven't we already been through this?” Medusa asks in a bored voice._

_Kurt thinks back to Christmas and shivers more violently. “You lied to me,” he grits out, unable to keep the tears out of his throat._

_“I beg your pardon?” Medusa says slowly, her voice low and dangerous._

_“You lied to me. You said Pavarotti wouldn't die.” Kurt's voice is shaking._

_Medusa laughs. “You're upset about the bird?” she asks disbelievingly. “I didn't have anything to do with that, but really? That's where your head is at right now?”_

_It's Valentine's Day all over again, Kurt realizes, because his pain isn't enough for Medusa. It didn't matter that Blaine was in love with someone else; Kurt still had to watch him die. It didn't matter that his bird just died; Kurt still had to watch Blaine die. Again and again and -- “Death's a sore spot for me, in case you hadn't noticed,” he says dryly. “So what do you want me to do? You let me sing with him at Christmas.” Over the phone, yes, Kurt realizes, but they still got to sing and Kurt's not sure what the difference is this time._

_“He looked twice,” Medusa says vaguely, but after a moment, Kurt thinks he understands._

_“I'm not allowed to let him single me out.” Medusa points at him as if to say, 'Bingo,' and Kurt pushes himself to his feet, groaning in frustration._

Kurt moves down the stairs with ease, muscle memory pushing him forward. As he meets Blaine again, he fights the resentment building in his gut. He doesn't want the solo and it doesn't matter if it's a competition. All Kurt wants is to sing with a boy, to sing with Blaine again. It shouldn't be asking too much but it is, and Kurt knows that would be true even if Medusa weren't in the picture. To the rest of the world, he shouldn't be singing duets with a boy, shouldn't be gay. But the reason he's not with Blaine isn't because of homophobia; Medusa is the one keeping them apart.

When the Warblers agree to change one of their numbers into a duet, Kurt asks again to add his name to the audition list. Before Blaine can speak up in protest, Kurt turns to Nick next to him and Trent behind him, urging them to add their names as well. “You're all so talented,” he enthuses. “It's a great opportunity to show off how great you all are.” The bell rings for their next class, and on his way out of the door, Kurt thinks he sees Blaine looking slightly disgruntled.

Kurt ends up being selected for the duet anyway, but at least Blaine didn't single him out this time. He's decorating (bedazzling, really) Pavarotti's casket in the cafe after school when Blaine waltzes in, slightly happier. “What's that?” he asks with a laugh.

“I'm decorating Pavarotti's casket,” Kurt says with a sigh.

“Well finish up,” Blaine says cheerfully, “because the council picked you for the duet and I found the perfect song. We should practice.”

“Do tell,” Kurt says with a grin, setting down his tweezers.

“ _Candles_ by Hey Monday,” Blaine says hesitantly, gripping the back of the chair in front of him.

Kurt cocks an eyebrow, amused. “I'm impressed. You're usually so top forty.”

He thinks he sees Blaine fighting back a blush as he takes the seat next to him. “Well I wanted something a little more... emotional.”

Kurt's heart beats a little faster -- _sing how you feel_ \-- but he quashes the pleased emotion quickly. “I hope I do okay,” he teases. “The council could've easily picked one of the other Warblers.”

“I'm glad they didn't,” Blaine says in a rush. “I wanted it to be you.”

Kurt studies him for a moment, watches as Blaine fails to keep the color from his face, his gaze trained on his lap. He feels... recognition. He feels... connected. He feels... the same. But no, not the same, because Blaine isn't in love with him. He can't be. “Why?” Kurt asks suddenly. “Why me?” The question's out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Blaine lifts his head and meets Kurt's eyes, hesitating. He closes his eyes, draws in a shaky breath, and _explodes_.

_Dust still clouds Kurt's vision when he lands, sputtering and coughing. He reaches up to rub his eyes and is surprised to see blood on his hands, feel a gash on his face. “What was that?” Kurt coughs angrily, leaning against the cave wall._

_“Neither of you seem to get it.” Kurt can't see Medusa but he knows she's there and she sounds furious. “He keeps reacting violently and you can't seem to stop him. So I thought maybe this would be a good way to impress upon you how much you need to learn your lesson. I'm losing my patience.”_

_Kurt catches his breath but his hands and arms are shaking, the image of Blaine -- solid as stone -- exploding into a million tiny fragments still burned onto his irises. “He didn't single me out this time,” Kurt reasons. “I -- I forced the audition.” Kurt crawls on hands and knees to the river and cleans off his face, thinking hard. “But it doesn't matter,” he says slowly, wiping his brow on his sleeve. “Because he still wanted to single me out and told me as much.”_

_“Very good,” Medusa says. “You're starting to see there aren't many loopholes here.”_

_“I wouldn't expect there to be,” Kurt snaps. “Goodbye, Medusa.”_

Blaine passes by him on the stairs and all Kurt wants to do is reach out and hug him, he's so starved for affection and touch and _intimacy_. But Kurt reaches out to shake Blaine's hand and sticks to the script. “Kurt.”

This time, when Blaine finds him perched over Pavarotti's casket (why does losing the bird hurt so much?), Kurt doesn't discuss the council or ask why Blaine so desperately wants him to be his duet partner. Instead, he opts for, “You usually prefer upbeat numbers. What made you change your mind?”

But that turns out to be a wrong question to ask too, Kurt realizes, because Blaine – still looking at his lap – fidgets for a moment, unable to meet Kurt's pressing gaze. And then slowly, he scoots his chair closer to Kurt's, freezes for the space of a second, and reaches out his hand to cover Kurt's on top of the table. Kurt's heart leaps into his throat and he thinks of so many things at once: _a boy is holding my hand, Blaine is holding my hand, he can't be holding my hand -- the hallway --_

Before Kurt can finish the thought, Blaine's hand starts to harden over his but Kurt can't bring himself to try and tug it away because he doesn't want to let go. He doesn't fight the tears that spring into his eyes and tries to remember the way Blaine's hand had felt on his, warm and soft --

_Kurt pulls his knees to his chest and bows his head, crying steadily. It's too much, it's always too much. He's lost Blaine, he's lost Pavarotti, he's lost his mom... “You've let him hold my hand before,” Kurt says quietly. “You've killed him for doing it, but you've also let him live. How am I supposed to know the difference?” There's such an ache, a longing in his voice and he knows Medusa can hear it._

_She doesn't answer his question. “You're always going to be in love with him, aren't you?” Medusa muses. Kurt doesn't respond and pulls his knees a little closer. “Even if I weren't keeping you apart, if I weren't a part of this picture, you'd still love him.” There's something in her voice that Kurt can't quite make out, something much gentler, kinder... “Why do you love him? Why did it have to be him?”_

_Kurt settles his chin on his knees. “Why does it have to be him? He's not even -- he doesn't know about you, this time around. He's not Perseus, Medusa. I'm-” Kurt bites his lip. “I'm not Athena,” he whispers. “This is so unfair.”_

_“Fair?” Medusa spits out, and Kurt turns to look at her, surprised. Her gaze immobilizes him. She looks beyond livid. “You want to talk about fair? You --” Her anger renders her incoherent and speechless, and it's with gritted teeth that she says, “Get out.”_

_She blinks once and Kurt is scrambling to his feet, rushing toward the archway, to Blaine --_

On the stairs, in his desire to keep himself in check, he acts in the opposite direction and ignores Blaine completely. He says, “Excuse me,” to three boys passing by him -- one of whom is wearing a red sweater vest -- but every single one of them ignores him. Kurt takes a few steps forward to try again and almost runs smack into Blaine when he turns around. “I'm so sorry!” Kurt breathes out in a rush, fighting to gain his footing.

Blaine grabs him by the elbow and rights him, smiling a bit as he does so. “Did you need something?” he asks. It's clear that he heard Kurt's request go unanswered. Kurt's heart _leaps_ because he realizes that _maybe it doesn't matter_. It almost doesn't matter how he meets Blaine, what he says to him, how he looks at him, how they touch. It doesn't matter because no matter how hard he _tries_ to keep him at arm's length, no matter how hard Medusa tries to keep them apart, they still meet, they still become friends, and Blaine is still a part of him.

But it _does_ matter. There's always a certain set of rules he has to follow, always things he must avoid, prevent. It matters because if he's not careful about how he constructs his relationship with Blaine, then Blaine will die. And Kurt, after watching it happen fifteen times, after being tormented and taunted by Medusa, after starting over and over and over... Kurt is tired. And Kurt can't stand to see Blaine die again, not when they've been kept apart for so long. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and nods. “I'm new here.”

*****

“I wanted something a little more emotional.”

There's the line, Kurt knows, firm in the sand. He can't cross it this time, and he's starting to understand why, what his mistake is each and every time. If Blaine's going for emotional, he's taking a page out of Kurt's book which means that _Blackbird_ meant something to him. He takes in Blaine's frame -- already seemingly fragile as stone -- and pushes the thought away.

He offers Blaine a small smile and nods. “Do you have the lyrics? Maybe we could figure out how to split it up.” Blaine draws in a breath but nods, grateful for the reprieve he doesn't know he's getting. Together, they pour over the creased sheet Blaine pulls from his jacket pocket, black ink marking up the page as they work. And it's moments like this, Kurt realizes, that he's grateful for. To sit next to Blaine, to feel his warmth, to know he was simply alive. After a time, the pen rests between them, and Kurt opens his mouth to sing. “ _The power lines went out and I am all alone. I don't really care at all, not answering my phone._ ”

Blaine's hands fidget in his lap as he peers at the lyrics on the table, his voice raised tentatively. “ _All the games you played, the promises you made. Couldn't finish what you started_ ,” -- Kurt swallows -- “ _only darkness still remains_.”

Kurt's voice rejoins Blaine's as they seek harmony. “ _Lost I couldn't see_ ,” Kurt hears Blaine stop singing but continues, “ _when it was you and me_.” Kurt looks up, staring at Blaine quizzically, debating whether or not to continue. He finds Blaine staring at him with fixed eyes, and, after a moment, watches as the tension dissolves from Blaine's body.

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine breathes.

Kurt feels the tears brimming in his eyes but he can't react, can't encourage Blaine, can't let him go any further.

And then Blaine is leaning forward, up out of his seat, his face inches from Kurt's. Kurt's breath hitches and he sits frozen in his chair, silently willing Blaine to sit back down, to pull away --

But then Blaine doubles over before he reaches Kurt, a hand grabbing at his abdomen, a harsh gasp escaping his lips. “Blaine?” Kurt asks, ducking his head as he seeks out Blaine's face. “Blaine, what is it?”

“Pain,” Blaine hisses between clenched teeth. “Can't --” Blaine whimpers, his knees giving out from under him. Kurt stares down at him, horrified. “Hurts to breathe,” he manages to get out. “Can't -- God -- I don't know. It hurts. It just hurts.”

Kurt trembles but keeps his voice calm. “Okay, just... Just hold on, okay? Let me call an ambulance for you.” Kurt's hand fishes around in his pants pocket, pulling out his phone. His thumb hovers over the screen for a second when Blaine's hand finds his knee, gripping it tightly. He speaks quickly, his eyes never leaving Blaine's shaking frame. Tucking the phone away, he holds out his hand. “Here, give me your other hand,” he says. “Let me help you up.”

Blaine stays still for a moment, fighting to gather himself, before nodding. He removes his hand from around his abdomen and offers it to Kurt. Blood glistens on his skin. “Wha-?” he chokes out, glancing down. Kurt pushes Blaine's shoulder back, leaning down to see a dark stain spreading on his shirt. In the panic and confusion and haste of the next few hours, only one thought crosses Kurt's mind: _Medusa, why?_

Kurt sits uncomfortably in a chair by Blaine's bedside as doctors flit in and out of the hospital room, drawing blood, exchanging files, glancing at Blaine's body in astonishment. They have no answers; the morphine isn't helping. Kurt knows this, watches as Blaine teeters between consciousness and sleep, his body writhing in pain beneath the sheets, the muscles in his face contorted as he moans. Kurt watches with heavy eyes, his mind struggling to understand. _'Blaine was going to make the first move again. He should have died. But she's... she's torturing him instead. Why?'_

Kurt replays the scene in his mind, his eyes surveying Blaine's face. _'Blaine was going to kiss me.'_ Kurt doesn't feel guilty for the thought, the assumption. _'What was it about a kiss that made her do this? Maybe... Maybe it was one step too far.'_ Kurt doesn't know. He doesn't really care. Medusa stopped it from happening like she did everything else. And here was his punishment, his price to pay; he has to watch Blaine suffer. He isn't sure which is worse, being forced to watch him die countless times, or this. Either way, he's powerless to stop it, powerless to prevent Medusa from hurting Blaine, Blaine, who always made the first move...

Kurt sits up a little in his chair, his heart racing. If he plays by Medusa's rules, he can stop this. He swallows thickly. “Blaine?” There's a shift but no response. “Blaine, are you awake? Can you hear me? Can you understand me?” Blaine moans but nods his head slightly. “Blaine, this is important. I need you to pay attention. I need you to listen to me, okay? I know it's hard, but please.”

Blaine lolls his head to the side to face Kurt, his eyes squinting as he murmurs, “'M listening.”

Kurt rises from his chair and leans over Blaine's body, his hand clasping warmly over Blaine's. He feels Blaine jerk beneath him, feels Medusa's wrath, but still he moves closer, his lips hovering over Blaine's ear. “ _I love you_ ,” Kurt breathes.

Blaine's body seizes beneath him, Kurt feels the familiar tug behind his navel and --

_Blaine's back hits the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. He groans, blinking at the change in light, taking in his surroundings. Where is he?_

_He hears a scream, rolls onto his side to look at the source of the noise, sees a figure standing over a body some one hundred feet away, writhing in pain -- Kurt's body --_

_Blaine pushes himself to his knees and makes a move toward him. “Kurt --”_

_The figure whips around, eye fixing on Blaine, and Blaine can't move. “You,” the figure says sharply, and in his panic, Blaine finally distinguishes that the figure is a woman, a woman with one eye and snakes for hair and the most terrifying expression. He's literally paralyzed with fear. “You're not supposed to be here. It was always him.”_

_Blaine tries to shake his head, tries to reach out a hand. He can't. He can't even speak Kurt's name. He thought he'd try and beat me at my own game, you see,” the woman says, and Blaine's chest tightens. “It was always you who crossed the line. I had to do it. I couldn't just let you live.” There's a sting in Blaine's eyes but he can't even cry and he doesn't understand. Kurt stirs feebly and the woman turns, eye flaming. Blaine falls forward._

_Kurt screams again, and Blaine lifts his head, breath catching. Kurt twitches and clutches at his sides, tears cascading down his face. “Medusa, please...”_

_Blaine stumbles toward them and makes a grab for Medusa's legs; she whips around to face him and Blaine instinctively raises his arm to shield his eyes, his elbow colliding with her face. There's a scream and Blaine falls back, using his feet and elbows to inch away from her. He looks up to her face and almost vomits: there's a sunken hole where her eye had been. The sleeve of Blaine's blazer comes in contact with a round object and he reaches out; it's wet, slimy to the touch, and Blaine realizes he's just grabbed hold of her eye --_

_A plethora of images and voices assault his senses all at once: the feeling of Kurt's hand under his; 'I really, really care about you. I don't want to screw this up'; singing Christmas duets over and over again; hovering over a caged bird; being pushed against a chain-linked fence; leading Kurt down a hallway by the hand. And always, always, turning around and meeting on that staircase. Again. And again. And --_

_Blaine gasps, letting the eye fall from his grasp and roll a few feet away from him. His head is pounding, aching. Months and months, repeated over and over again, in a matter of seconds, and all Blaine can feel is fury, anger. Kurt. She did this to Kurt. Kurt had to suffer._

_Medusa has to pay._

_Medusa fumbles blindly, arms reaching out for Blaine. The snakes on her head hiss angrily, and somehow, she manages to point herself in the right direction, senses where Blaine is. Blaine shifts, scooting back toward Kurt, trying to throw her off. He grabs the eye again and fights the influx of memories, glancing down. Something in Kurt's pocket catches his eye -- a compact --_

_Blaine grabs the mirror instinctively and opens it, turning to face Medusa. She's found her way to him again, arms reaching out. The eye twitches in Blaine's other hand and Blaine blinks, an idea forming..._

_Gripping the eye tightly, Blaine raises it to the mirror and flinches, squeezing his eyes shut. Medusa screams and the eye burns and vibrates in Blaine's hand, but still he doesn't let go. There's a cracking sound and Blaine snaps open his eyes, looking past the objects in his hand to Medusa's form, solid and breaking and crumbling to the floor --_

_The eye burns against Blaine's flesh and he gasps in pain. Relaxing his hand, he finally dares to look at it and sees red; the eye bleeds, and Blaine lets out a scream as he drops it to the ground. The eye exsanguiates before him and Blaine is left staring at the space it occupied, gasping, panting. Blaine's shaking and his head is pounding and he's trying, trying so hard to sort through everything the eye's given him, all of the answers._

_He has so many questions._

_Steadying himself, Blaine pushes himself into a sitting position. His back collides with another solid object and he turns slightly. Kurt --_

_Blaine hovers over him, fingers reaching out, ghosting over Kurt's cheekbones, pale and tear-stained. He pushes the hair from Kurt's forehead and speaks softly. “Kurt?” He's met with only silence, and Blaine's stomach twists into knots. “Kurt?” he presses again. Kurt groans quietly and Blaine breathes out, his stomach uncoiling. “Hey,” he greets quietly._

_Kurt blinks, squinting, and glances around. “Wha -- where -- why --” His breath hitches when he glances Blaine's face. “Blaine.” Blaine offers a small smile and lets his thumb fall to the apple of Kurt's cheek. “Blaine. You're -- you're not -- you can't be here.” Kurt sits up quickly, surveying the plateau anxiously. “Medusa --”_

_Blaine pushes a firm hand to Kurt's shoulder, holding him in place. “Medusa's gone.”_

_Kurt stares at him. “What?”_

_“Medusa's gone,” Blaine repeats. “Dead.”_

_Kurt drops his gaze, bewildered. “She can -- She's mortal -- I didn't even think --” He falters, and it's quiet for a few moments before he lifts his head to look at Blaine again. “What happened? Did she -- did she tell you everything? Do you know?”_

_Blaine nods. “Well, the eye did, before it...” Blaine nods toward the blood stain on the ground and Kurt pulls his knees to his chest, revolted. Blaine shifts to sit on the steps near Kurt, and Kurt turns to face him. “But I might need you to explain... more.”_

_“Anything,” Kurt breathes._

_“Every time I --” Blaine tapers off, can't bring himself to actually say the words 'I died.' “What happened to you? You knew each other.”_

_“She'd bring me here,” Kurt explains in a rush, fingers fidgeting. “Lecture me, try and force me to learn the lesson, to understand that I had to push you away. Believe me, Blaine, I had to, I didn't want to --”_

_“I know,” Blaine reassures him, resting a warm hand on Kurt's knee. “Why us?”_

_“Perseus, I think,” Kurt says, brow furrowing in concentration. “He destroyed her, then. And you --”_

_“I'm Perseus, now,” Blaine finishes, and somehow, miraculously, sense and clarity are starting to emerge for him._

_“Descendent, probably,” Kurt clarifies. “I think she saw you as a threat. She didn't want to meet the same fate. And after what Poseidon did to her, I think she felt a little vengeful.”_

_Blaine's quiet for a moment. “It was my fault,” he says slowly, and Kurt's eyes widen. “Every time, I was the one who crossed the line. That's why she chose to kill me, instead of you.”_

_“Don't blame yourself,” Kurt breathes, the words tumbling out of him. “You didn't know, she never gave you any inclination. It was only ever me- I had to be the one to stop it --”_

_“You tried,” Blaine cuts in, cocking his head to the side and gazing at Kurt thoughtfully. “Every time. You did something different and tried to keep me at arm's length. You tried to protect me.” Kurt flushes but doesn't answer. “How long?” Blaine asks suddenly. “How long have you actually known me? Really?”_

_Kurt stops breathing for a minute and Blaine sees his body start to shake. When he speaks, he's so quiet that Blaine has to lean forward, silently asking Kurt to repeat his answer. “Three years.” A breath leaves Blaine's chest rather haphazardly and Kurt blinks, fresh tears spilling over his eyes._

_“Three years,” Blaine echos, gripping Kurt's knee a little tighter. His voice is shaking when he speaks again. “You've suffered so much.”_

_Kurt lets out a false laugh. “I wasn't the one who died fifteen times, Blaine.”_

_Blaine lifts his eyes -- wet and glossy now -- and meets Kurt's gaze. Kurt swallows thickly. “Was it too much?” he asks earnestly, but Kurt shakes his head, confused. “Medusa didn't kill me this time. She tortured me instead. Was it because I was going to --” He stops abruptly, his cheeks coloring._

_Kurt smiles warmly and places his hand on tops of Blaine's, nodding. “I think so.”_

_Blaine breaks their eye contact and shakes his head, disbelieving. “But then --” He looks at Kurt again, eyes wide. “She brought us both here.”_

_“An accident, I think,” Kurt says gently. “I didn't expect her to bring you here, to let you in on the secret.”_

_Blaine surveys his face for a moment. “I initiated,” he says slowly. “I made the first move. That was why she killed me.” Kurt nods, eyes narrowed, and Blaine knows they've been over this, but it all makes so much more sense now. “Even if you didn't expect her to bring me here, you still expected her... You expected her to kill you,” he questions quietly. Kurt's eyes widen and he lets out a choked sound, unable to respond. “In the hospital, that's why you said... what you said. You thought she was going to kill you.”_

_“That's not why I said it,” Kurt cuts in, rushing to explain. “I mean, it was, but --”_

_Blaine presses a finger to Kurt's lips and Kurt falls silent, his chest heaving. “You were willing to die to save me.” Kurt's lips tremble under Blaine's finger and he lets out a soft whine; it's all the confirmation Blaine needs. “Oh my God, Kurt --”_

_Kurt pulls his face away. “I had to,” he explains in a rush, and Blaine can hear the desperate, justifying tone in his voice. “She was torturing you, Blaine, I couldn't just sit there and let her, after everything she'd done to you already -- I couldn't let you suffer --”_

_Blaine lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a half-strangled sob and reaches out, pulling Kurt into his arms. Kurt stiffens for a second but relaxes as Blaine's hands find his back, chin hooking over Kurt's shoulder. He hears Blaine crying into his neck and brings his arms up to wrap around him, his eyes falling shut. “Blaine,” he breathes, and Blaine is heavy and solid and breathing and real under him, around him. “Blaine.”_

_It's several long, glorious moments before they can bring themselves to break apart. Blaine glances at the ground, his eyes finding the compact again. Leaning down, he picks it up and hands it to Kurt, who takes it gingerly. Kurt's thumb runs over an engraving that had previously gone unnoticed by Blaine, a name --Athena..._

_Blaine rises to his feet, brushing off his slacks before walking away from the mountain, the river, the cave, towards the archway and its descending steps. Kurt pushes himself off of his knees, turns to watch Blaine move, his eyes wide, curious._

_Blaine steps through the archway and trots down a couple of steps before stopping, spinning on his heel to face Kurt. He stretches out his arm, offering his hand to Kurt. As Blaine's body begins to fade beyond the veil, something catches in Kurt's chest and he sprints forward, cascading into Blaine's arms. The boys meet with a loud 'oomph' and their arms wrap around each other as Blaine's feet stumble backwards --_

Blaine lands with his back on the mattress, pillows sinking under his weight. It takes a moment to register the weight and heat pressing on him, to register Kurt's arms gripping at his own. He mirrors the gesture, squeezing at Kurt's muscles to get his attention. Kurt pulls away slowly, his eyes glancing around the room in bewilderment. “We're not at Dalton,” Kurt says.

Blaine shakes his head. “No, we're not.”

Kurt's brain takes a few moments to catch up, to register the implication. “Does this mean -- are you -- I mean... Do you remember anything?” he asks, finally meeting Blaine's eyes.

“Mmm,” Blaine hums pleasantly, “why don't you refresh my memory?” Kurt surveys him cautiously, and Blaine squeezes his arms again. “Say it again,” he pleads quietly.

Kurt's eyes grow wide as he registers Blaine's request. A beat, and then, with eyes squeezed shut: “I love you.”

The room is silent save for the sound of breathing and machines. Kurt's hands tremble on Blaine's arms as he finally dares to open his eyes again. “You're still here,” Kurt breathes, tears welling his eyes. “You're still here, you're -- you're alive, you're okay.” Kurt doesn't even try to fight back the tears as his fingers reach out to trace Blaine's jaw line, a touch Blaine leans into imperceptibly, eyes fluttering shut under the tender caress.

“So are you,” Blaine points out, opening his eyes to meet Kurt's. Kurt's hands fall to Blaine's chest, resting over the thin material of the hospital gown. The boys hold the gaze for a moment too long and then Blaine is pitching upward, his body bounding away from the mattress; their lips finally, finally crash together. When they break the kiss, Kurt can taste the salt of their tears on his lips. “Oh, there you are,” Blaine breathes against him. “I've been looking for you forever.”


End file.
